


My night is filled with dreams of you.

by orphan_account



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Angst, Boys Kissing, Dreams, Football, Football | Soccer, Grinding, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Insecurity, M/M, Real Madrid CF, Shower Sex, Surprise Kissing, Surprise Sex, Surprises, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-29
Updated: 2014-07-29
Packaged: 2018-02-10 21:35:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2041089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Iker has some dreams that are slightly revealing, in more ways then one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My night is filled with dreams of you.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [roxashasboxers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/roxashasboxers/gifts).



> Thank you so much to roxashasboxers. With out your help and guidance this would rotting in my Google Drive. You are so patient, and even though you don't know much about soccer/football (or at least say you don't) you really reviewed everything and did an awesome job. Thank you so much for being such an amazing human bean (yes I did that on purpose).
> 
> Thank you to everyone else who helped inspire this.
> 
> This has been a very interesting thing to write since again I'm not really a Real Madrid fan, but I ship it.

_He sees Sergio running with the ball, running toward the opposite end of the field. He sees the defender running straight at the other man. He knows what’s going to happen, but that doesn’t stop the cringe as the other player’s right leg snaps out and hits Sergio’s left leg right above the guard. He can almost feel the pain as Sergio falls clutching his leg, and he doesn’t get back up._

_Then he’s running, running faster than he ever has. The ground is slick with rain and he slides the last couple of feet. He can hear his teammates arguing with the other team and he should probably go stop the confrontation. Sergio is curled in tight ball shuddering from pain or cold or shock he doesn’t know. He reaches toward Sergio- ___

__Iker Casillas jerks awake. His eyes staring into the darkness, registering that he’s in bed and that he isn’t on the pitch and Sergio is probably in bed, in his own house. He swings his legs over the side of the bed and stands up, images still flashing behind his eyelids. He walks into the kitchen and grabs his glass from last nights hurried dinner. Filling it with water from the fridge he walks back to his room._ _

__The dream hovers before his vision, not really a dream, more, a memory, because there was a circumstance that Sergio did collide with someone and he did get injured. Iker still remembers the stinging rain and the feeling of helplessness. He puts the glass on the side table next to his bed and climbs back into the embrace of his duvet. As he shuts his eyes to try and fall back asleep he prays that he won’t return to that awful night._ _

__Then he’s spiraling into a bottomless black hole with no end..._ _

__..._ Iker hovers over Sergio, they’re both stripped to the waist and the warm glow of a lamp illuminates their features. Sergio is smiling up at him his eyes filled with happiness, contentment and trust. Iker’s hands rest on the mattress on either side of Sergio’s head, their legs tangled at the knees. He leans down and kisses Sergio right next to his smiling mouth. He leans further down running his lips over Sergio’s jaw feeling the stubble there._

_Then Sergio’s hands are tugging at Iker’s hair dragging him back up so their foreheads are touching and they’re looking directly into each other’s eyes. Iker can see so much in the other man’s eyes, so much that can’t be said in words, his throat closes for a second. He leans down and gently caresses Sergio’s lips with his own, applying no pressure, just waiting. Sergio pushes up to meet him, his hands pulling harder at Iker’s short hair._

Iker wakes up for the second time, but this time there is light streaming through the window of his room. The sheets are tangled around his legs and he can feel a slight drop of cold sweat drip down his bare back. He lays still for a while staring at the ceiling, absorbing his two dreams that both featured Sergio. 

Two different sides of Sergio. 

The Sergio that he saw and interacted with almost everyday and the Sergio in the bedroom, the Sergio he knew bits and pieces about. He lets all of the sensations, thoughts and emotions wash over him. The feeling of desire and lust combined with love as he bent to kiss the other man. The feeling of shock and horror at seeing Sergio go down. The first are thoughts he’s never really explored before, but obviously has. The second are thought he generally quells because usually Sergio is fine. 

The golden light of morning begins to fill his room in earnest so he gets up, struggling to push aside an “eventful” night. His team has a game today, a game he has to be ready for.

For a while he forgets about the dreams. 

Iker drives to the Santiago Bernabéu Stadium (home stadium) where they’re going to play Real Sociedad. He suits up for a practice game and slips back into his familiar role as captain. A role as familiar as the gloves he slips over his hands. 

The first thing Iker notices is that Sergio is absent. When he asks Benzema, who Iker can tell only half understands, he gets something about an appointment so he lets it rest. 

Iker stands in front of the goal yelling at Ronaldo and Bale to tighten their defense, and he feels better than he has in a long time. This is where he belongs, yelling orders at his team. Xavi comes up to him at some point during the practice a tells him to calm down a little, but he just ignore the half smiling man and continues barking orders. “Arbeloa, keep your left tighter. Contrão, why the fuck are you going that way? Go that way. NO, the other way, idiot.” There is a part of him that is very conscious of Sergio’s absence, but is very glad for it at the same time. 

Of course Sergio had to show up at some point, though, and as always he picks the worst.

“Casillas, my office, now.” Comes the Ancelotti’s harsh voice at the edge of the pitch. Surprised Iker jogs from his spot at the goal and over to the man standing at the edge of the pitch. The coach says nothing as they walk down into the tunnel and off into the side corridor that holds Ancelotti’s office. He opens the door and gestures for Iker to have a seat. “Casillas, I want you to know that I think you’ve been playing quite nicely.” Iker heartbeat quickens just like it does every time they have this meeting (before every game). “But we are going to play Diego tonight.” Ancelotti continues to say how its good practice for Diego etc., but Iker tunes him out.

They’ve had this meeting at almost every game this season and every time Iker thinks maybe now, but no. Every time Ancelotti just says that they’re playing Diego and Sergio will be Captain. 

Iker stands up ignoring Ancelotti’s goodbye, there’s a rushing in his ears and suddenly he’s so angry and he needs out of the office. He slams open the door and slams it again as he leaves, not even hearing Ancelotti’s outrage. Iker walks briskly back toward the pitch to grab his extra gear. If he’s not playing then the fuck he’s being a substitute. He’ll just go home and not have to humiliation of being benched. As he rounds the corner to the tunnel he smacks into someone. This wakes him up, and brings him back down from the haze of anger that’s clouding not only his vision but his judgment as well.

It’s Sergio. 

Sergio who he now can’t look at without looking down in embarrassment. Sergio who takes one look at his best friend, realizes what just happened and wraps his arms around Iker in a tight hug. It takes a second for Iker to hug him back, but as his arms wrap around the other man and he breathes him in he realizes that maybe there is something of truth in the second dream he had (there’s a little bit of truth in everything). Gently Sergio leads him back toward the locker room so they both can change for the game that Iker isn’t going to play in. His resolve to leave melts when Cristiano hands him his gloves with the shit-eating grin of his that says; if-we-ain’t-leaving-then-neither-are-you. Iker sighs and tucks the gloves into the elastic of his shorts (just in case). 

~

Sergio and Iker have a tradition that goes back to when Sergio first started with Real from Sevilla and he was fresh faced and naive. The tradition is that before every match they do each other’s athletic tape. In Iker’s case it has always taken longer since they have to tape both of his wrists. So, Iker always does Sergio’s tape first, carefully wrapping each selected finger, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. 

Now Sergio watches him silently knowing that there’s something on Iker’s mind, from the way the other man’s shoulders are set, to the way he bites slightly at the edge of his lip. When Iker finishes Sergio’s finger he wraps the other man’s bicep before handing over the the tape. Sergio carefully grabs left Iker’s wrist and begins tightly wrapping it in athletic bandage, when he’s finished taping that wrist he move to the other. As he’s taping he says almost nonchalantly.

“You’re still the better keeper.”

Iker glances at him partially because they don’t usually talk during their taping and partially because of what he’s just said. Sergio’s head is bent over Iker’s wrist so he misses the glance as Iker says. 

“I don’t hold it against him. I just feel helpless and useless. Like they are just courteously putting me on the bench because next week they’re going to tell me ‘You’re getting too old for this’ and that ‘You should just be done with football.’” He says more than he thought he would, but once it starts he can’t stop it. “I don’t want to be done playing football. I know I’m not in my prime, but every time I think; ‘today they’ll let me play.” They don’t and I feel this clamping anxiety like this’ll be the day they say “good bye” to Iker.”

Sergio has stopped taping to listen and as Iker stops he resumes, Sergio is the process of formulating what he’s going to say, but before he can say anything Alonso sticks his head into the now empty locker room. “Ready, Capí?” He asks and Sergio gets up just as he finishes the last part of Iker’s wrists. Iker’s face is unreadable as he says. “Go, I’ll clean up. Your men need you. Good luck.” He smiles, but Sergio can tell that it doesn’t reach his eyes. 

Sergio’s thoughts swirl around his head as he enters the tunnel, switching from Iker’s strange last words to the way his co-captain looked so defeated. But as they walk onto the pitch all these thoughts are washed away and Sergio throws himself into the game with the usual vigor. 

Iker can already tell that it’s one of  
matches. One of the matches that they try so hard to get a goal, try so hard that in the end they usually end up drawing because neither side wants to concede that one winning goal. He sits on the side clenching and unclenching his fists, every now and then feeling (though its probably just perception) the absence of his Captain arm band. 

Iker’s whole body aches to be out there, to be the one yelling orders at the defenders, to be instructing. There are so many opportunities for a goal. One came in the seventh minute when Bale was in the six yard box, a shot that could be easily made but didn’t go in. Another opportunity came in the twentieth minute when Ronaldo kicked at goal when he should have passed to Xavi which could have gotten them a relatively early goal. There were also opportunities that took Sociedad way to close to his goal. One opportunity nearly cost them when Contrão kicked 

 

Then as if by magic there’s less than a minute left in extra time and the score is still 0-0. Iker’s head is about to sink down into hands for the third time that night, when suddenly the crowd roars. 

Sergio is running up the pitch, the ball dancing between his feet. 

He’s left his usual defensive position and is swerving, weaving, and dodging around the opposing team. He gets closer and closer to the other goal and Iker can feel himself standing his breath catching in his throat. Sergio runs flat out the last few steps before giving the ball a good straight kick, landing it neatly in the net. Iker lets out the breath he'd been holding and grabs the nearest person in a bear hug. 

The referee's whistle blows signaling the end of the match, the crowd is on its feet clapping and cheering their team into the tunnel. Somehow Iker gets through the crowd and to his co-captain. He grabs Sergio in a tight hug, breathing in the smell of sweat and aftershave. 

“Still the best keeper on the planet.” 

Sergio breathes into his neck, as if reading his thought, and then again Sergio always seemed to do that. 

The locker room clears out fast. Everyone wants to go home or party before the night is over. Nobody wants to think that less than an hour ago they could have had a humiliating draw. 

Iker is sitting on the same bench he was two hours ago this time waiting for Sergio (because that’s what they do, because they’re best friends), who’s taking a fucking long time and it’s making Iker impatient. Its also making him think about Sergio naked which is not something he wants to do because hanging out with your best friend when you have a hard on is not the best idea. Especially, when your hard on is because you were conjuring the images you have of your best friend, naked, out of your head Finally he gets up, fed up with waiting, and walks over to the showers to tell Sergio to “hurry up.”

Then a noise halts him mid step. 

The sound of a low moan, it washes into Iker’s ears and he freezes, not knowing how to react (since it’s the kind of moan you make in the privacy of your own shower, not the team’s). He knows that it’s Sergio since its only them left in the locker room, and he knows that he should just walk away and let Sergio get off. 

Iker’s mind is screaming at him to just go back to his bench and wait, but as always his body won’t listen and he’s walking quietly forward. His breath is caught in his throat and the thoughts racing through his head should not be thoughts one has about their best friend and co-captain. 

Another moan comes from the shower stall at the very end of the row, and he can see the water pooling around the drain and see Sergio’s feet, his toes slightly curling. His pace quickens and then he’s standing outside the shower and another moan comes from behind the curtain.

Iker gently and carefully pushes the curtain aside, he knows that he should stop, he knows but that doesn’t stop him. 

Sergio’s back is pressed up against the wall, his eyes are closed and his dick is in his hands. It’s one of the most beautiful fucking things that Iker has ever seen. Another moan ending in a whimper comes from Sergio’s parted lips as he gives himself one more hard tug. Iker can feel his body reacting, feel the fire pooling in his belly, and feel the spark at the bottom of his spine. Silent almost like a ghost he step over until he’s so close to Sergio that he can feel the other man’s breath. He ignores the drops of water on his back and waits for the moment that Sergio will open his eyes and see him. 

Then Sergio moans one last time, a breathy whisper, a name “Iker” and Iker can’t wait for him to open his eyes. So he leans down and presses his lips to Sergio’s. Sergio jerks in surprise, his eyes flying open and for a second he doesn’t recognize Iker and tries to pull away. 

Iker’s hands find themselves gripping Sergio’s bare hips, holding the other man tight. Sergio knows that grip, knows the way the fingers curl from the countless hugs he’s gotten, and its like the fantasy he’s just been running through in his head has just come to life (there was a part of him that wanted Iker to hear him moaning in the shower, there had always been a part of him that wanted that from the time that he joined Real). His hands go to Iker’s neck and suddenly he feels Iker’s mouth and he isn’t worried that he’s about to be raped by some creep. 

Iker’s lips are cool, his mouth rough and needy against Sergio’s. His tongue flicks into Sergio’s mouth, almost imperceptibly. Sergio lets out one of those moans that Iker can’t handle and then it’s like someone’s put him on automatic. 

Iker pulls back from Sergio lips and kisses his way down the other man’s jaw. He nipps and licks at Sergio’s neck, illiciting more of those moans. Then Sergio is scrambling at the buttons on Iker’s shirt so he can feel the skin and muscle beneath. Iker’s attached himself to Sergio’s collar bone, biting gently then sucking on the red spot until he knows there will be a bruise. He feels Sergio tugging at his shirt and he lets the other man take it off of him. Lets Sergio run his hands up his arms and back his neck, drawing his head up for another kiss, because thats what best friends do. Even if whatever they’re doing right now is slightly fucked up.

Sergio gently sucks at Iker’s tongue and it’s Iker’s turn to moan into Sergio’s mouth. He can feel himself kicking off his shoes and socks and his pants are soon to follow, everything is wet anyway. They’re pressed tightly together Sergio’s back still against the wall and Iker uses that advantage to grind his hips against Sergio’s. Sergio, who’s painfully hard since he didn’t get the opportunity to finish jerking himself off, gasps into Iker’s mouth. His finger’s immediately find the waistband of Iker’s underpants yanking on them until they’ve joined the rest of the wet clothes on the tiles. Now they really are skin to skin, and Iker grinds down again burying his face in Sergio’s shoulder at the sensations running through his body. His chest is filled with something that he can’t put into words. 

Sergio lifts his legs up wrapping them around Iker’s waist for better leverage as Iker once again grinds against him seeking the friction he so badly needs (wants). Sergio presses the back of his head against the cement wall of the cubicle, eyes closed panting and Iker continues that painfully slow rotation of his hips. Iker’s head lifts from Sergio’s neck as he feels the heat in his belly intensify and still maintaining the rhythm of his hips gently kisses Sergio’s panting mouth. Once, twice, until Sergio says, or rather, gasps out, “Iker, I’m… Iker Iker IkerIkerIker…” and Iker gasps out equally breathless in one long drawn out moan that sends them both over the edge, “Sese.” 

 

When the aftershocks fade and Sergio disentangles himself from Iker’s waist, wincing at his over sensitive cock, they stand under the shower allowing the water to wash them. The water has gone cold and Iker shivers as it pounds down on them, Sergio notices and gently wraps his arms around Iker’s waist so as to share body heat. Iker snakes his arms out encircling Sergio’s shoulders and for a few moments they just stand there in the cold water taking comfort in each other’s presence. Neither really knows what to say. 

What do you say after something so unexpected (so wanted)? 

Then Sergio reaches up and turns off the shower and suddenly he’s all business. Grabbing the two towels (one for his hair when it was long (he never quite broke the habit)) that hung on the hook outside the shower he plops one on Iker’s head and begins to rub away the water in his own hair. Iker watches him almost curiously, his head cocked to one side, until he finally began toweling himself down.

 

“You know,” Iker says, breaking the silence, “I don’t have any dry clothes.” 

Sergio looks up at him and for a second his face is blank then he bursts out laughing. 


End file.
